


Love and War

by kingcaboodle



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fantasy Racism, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Gotoro Empire, Multi, Mutual Pining, Pen Pals, Romance, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-19 08:42:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13700937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingcaboodle/pseuds/kingcaboodle
Summary: A Republic on the offensive, an Empire at the brink of destruction, two pen pals connected by a shared love of birds. Stranger things have happened, so why not in the valley?





	1. Long Distance Call (A Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Small Town Polite](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13854207) by [MossPrinx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MossPrinx/pseuds/MossPrinx). 



_Lovely-Bird has signed in_.

 

Shane glances at the computer screen through bleary eyes, not trusting his own vision until he hears the _ping!_ of the notification tone, the chat-box flashing to indicate a new message.

 

_chick_magnet has signed in_.

 

_Lovely-Bird (_ _｡･_ _ө_ _･｡_ _): I almost thought you weren’t coming! The idea really ruffled my feathers ~_

He snorts, running his arm across his eyes and sitting up straight enough to properly type a response.

 

_chick_magnet: I had a good comeback, but I think I’ll millet over_

_chick_magnet: Isn’t it late where you are?_

It’s another shitty night in Pelican Town, his liver straining against the fabric of his t-shirt from another night spent getting wasted at the saloon. The Farmer had tried to coax him over to where she had been shooting pool with everyone’s favorite misfit trio, but he had ignored it. Why would he go over there, so he could feel them judging him up close and personal? The thought had been so jarring that he had left the bar all together, taking his chances drinking alone in his room rather than face public humiliation. It’s not like they wanted him there anyway. No one cared about him. It didn’t matter if he –

 

_Lovely-Bird (_ _｡･_ _ө_ _･｡_ _): I was waiting to talk to you! You haven’t sent pics of the baby blues! _:(‘Θ’_ _」_ _∠_ _):__

Bird couldn’t have been waiting up for him. The thought is enough to cause the bile to rise in his throat, the idea that he might be getting his hopes up for nothing almost too much to bear. _Besides, it’s not like any of this is real. Just some other bird-lover online. You can’t actually make friends over the internet, can you?_

But he had, hadn’t he? Though he knew nothing about Bird, they had been a pretty constant presence in his life since he had turned to that avian care forum when he had just started on chick duty. He didn’t know much about Bird, just their forum handle and the fact that they constantly posted photos of their lovebirds. Come to think of it, he probably knew more about Peach and Tango than he did their owner.

 

_Lovely-Bird (_ _｡･_ _ө_ _･｡_ _): Are you there? Earth to chick_magnet! Hellow?? Hellow?_ _⋛⋋_ _( ‘Θ’)_ _⋌⋚_

_chick_magnet: I’m here I’m here. Don’t get your tailfeathers in a twist._

 

He shrugs off his Joja Brand Hoodie, tossing it to the floor under his desk.

 

_chick_magnet: are you really up because you wanted to talk to me?_

_Lovely-Bird (_ _｡･_ _ө_ _･｡_ _): duh, bird-brain. It’s your **bird day,** isn’t it?? _

 

He groans aloud, putting a hand over his face to hide his grin. _Idiot, not like Bird can see it anyway_.

 

_chick_magnet: alright, enough with the bird puns. I’m gonna lose it_

_chick_magnet: yeah, it’s my birthday, alright. 29 trips around the sun, hooray for me._

For a second, he wonders how old Bird is. Their love of puns had always made him wonder if he was talking to someone’s middle-aged, bird loving father. But their use of complex emoticons had always suggested someone younger. Bird had always been stingy with personal information, or – Shane squints; or maybe he had been the one to establish the separation. They had asked questions in the beginning, but he had always brushed if off. It wasn’t as though they really wanted to know anyway.

 

_Lovely-Bird (_ _｡･_ _ө_ _･｡_ _): you’re so lucky your birthday’s in the spring > <; _

_Lovely-Bird (_ _｡･_ _ө_ _･｡_ _): everything is always so cold on my birthday, it makes it hard to coax people out_

_Lovely-Bird (_ _｡･_ _ө_ _･｡_ _): I hope today was kind to you (•ө•)_ _♡_

Shane stares at the screen, watching as the clock rolls over and a new day begins.

 

_chick_magnet: you were the first and last person to message me on my birthday so_

_chick_magnet: yea, I guess it was_

 

* * *

 

 

War is hell.

 

At least, that’s what the soldiers said. They said it with that far-away look in their eyes, staring out past the shoreline. “War is hell,” they said, waiting for their comrades to nod in agreement.

 

She had never thought too hard about the war. It had been going on so long, that no one really paid it any mind. They had learned to live with the rations, had learned to live with the airstrikes, had learned to cower in fear at the sound of the siren indicating that another Ferngill plane had made it past the designated warzone. For unlike the soldiers crying “war is hell,” they knew as civilians what hell truly was. Learning to cope with a battle you had no part in creating.

 

Kala clutches at her cell phone, the walls of her apartment rattling and causing her birds to cry softly under the blanket covering their cage. She shushes them, cooing as gently as she can as she tries to hide her same fear. The power had been out for days, the airstrikes from the Ferngill Republic growing more frequent the siege on the capital city grew more and more likely. She might’ve been able to cope, having grown accustomed to the forced-reconciliation with the sound of gunfire in the streets; but her one escape had been muted in light of the sudden cancellation of her internet access.

 

_I wonder what chick is up to_ , she thinks, flinching at the sound of another crackle of gunfire from the street. _Are they safe? Are they happy? Are they – chick, are you thinking about me?_

 

Talking to chick was the last thing that had made her feel normal. Quiet moments were hard to come by here. If the soldiers weren’t stopping you on the streets to check your papers, the shopkeepers were harassing you over rations and prices. Smugglers had driven up the price of goods that they had taken for granted, a small pouch of coffee beans the most unattainable luxury. But with chick – there were no names, no condolences, no safety checks.

 

Maybe it had been an escape. Somewhere where there were no scattered casings lining the streets, somewhere far from the sirens and chaos. With chick she had been able to be normal with no need for coping or adjustment, but now she was alone. Lost in the debris of a crumbling empire.

 

Wrapping herself around her bird cage, Kala bends her head. As though tucking herself into her wings in hopes of finding some form of comfort. And, for the first time in a long time, she allows herself to cry.

 

* * *

 

 

“How long is long enough to worry about someone?”

 

Denny looks at him over the top of her seltzer water, one dark brow arched in confusion. “What, like, how long do you have to know them? Because I don’t think there are milestones for these kinds of things.”

 

“No, no,” Shane watches the distorted image of his feet through the water’s surface. “I mean like,” he frowns. “Say we talk every day, and we talk every day for a year. But then I don’t hear from you for a month. Is that something to be worried about?”

 

He already knows the answer, knows that he started worrying about Bird a long time ago but was too chicken to admit it. It had been over a month. More than a month of waiting, of checking the forums, keeping an eye on Bird’s profile for any signs of life. It would’ve been one thing if he was being ignored. That was something he could cope with, something he would expect from something as fragile as an internet friendship. But it had seemed as though Bird had vanished from the face of the earth, and no one within their small avian community knew anything about what happened to them.

 

“Is this because I didn’t say hello to you yesterday,” Denny says. “Because I already –”

 

His phone chimes, and he almost jolts off the dock at the sound.

 

_Lovely-Bird (_ _｡･_ _ө_ _･｡) has signed in_

 

_Lovely-Bird (_ _｡･_ _ө_ _･｡): chick, are you there?_

Denny looks at him coyly. “Who’s that, your girlfriend?” When he doesn’t give the flustered reaction she’s hoping for, her eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, Shane, is that really your girlfriend?”

 

“I’m,” he frowns at her. “Gimme a sec, I’m trying to focus.”

 

_What do I say? “Hey, how ya been? Where were you last month? I was in the loony bin, myself?”_ He jiggles his leg nervously, his thigh bouncing against the dock.

 

_chick_magnet: hey_

_chick_magnet: haven’t seen you online lately_

“Oh man, that’s really weak.”

 

He jumps, trying to hide his phone from Denny’s prying eyes over his shoulder. “Get outta here! This is private.” When she reminds him that she saved his life, he flushes, glaring at her before relenting. “Fine, it’s this person I’ve been talking to. We met on this,” his cheeks are warm, “bird forum a year ago. And we just sort of hit it off, I guess. I don’t know.”

 

“That’s adorable.”

 

“But they haven’t been on in a while and,” he can feel his face burning under her gaze. “It’s not like we’re close, or anything like that. I don’t even know Bird’s real name, or where they live or any of that. But –”

 

“Have you tried,” she shrugs. “Asking?”

 

“I mean, not really, but –”

 

_Lovely-Bird (_ _｡･_ _ө_ _･｡); can I call you?_

Denny whistles low, glancing down at the screen before giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Well there’s your answer.”

 

* * *

 

 

_chick_magnet is requesting a voice chat_

 

Kala takes a deep breath. Even though she had been the one to suggest a call, she finds that she is more than nervous. After all, this would be a game-changer, wouldn’t it? Breaking down the barrier between her online life and her personal one. _It’s just Chick,_ she tells herself. _You don’t have to be nervous. Just be yourself._

 

“Bird, is that you?”

 

“Holy shit,” she blurts out before she can think to stop herself. “I did not think your voice would be so deep.”

 

“Oh,” there’s a pause, the sound of children laughing in the background. “Sorry.”

 

“N-no! I,” _oh man, this is already going south. I gotta fix this._ “I like it! It’s nice, like,” she scratches the back of her head. “Soothing, almost. Um,” she presses on before she can make things even more awkward. “Listen, Chick, I’m sorry that I sort of ghosted you for –”

 

“Shane. We’ve never exchanged names before so,” he clears his throat. “Shane.”

 

“Oh,” her ears heat up, and she forces herself to blame it on the warmth from the phone. “Kala.”

 

“Sorry, you were saying?”

 

“I,” she traces circles in the dust on the floor. “I don’t know when next I’ll be able to talk to you,” she says quietly. Before he can respond, she continues. “The reason I was gone – I had to leave the Empire. They packed us up and shipped us to refugee camps in the Republic, and now I’m,” Kala can feel her resolve wavering. “I don’t know where I’m going to end up. And I just wanted to make sure you knew that it’s not because I didn’t want to talk, I just,” her vision blurs, tears forming tracks in the dust around her. “I just don’t know where I’m going to end up.” She snorts, rubbing her eyes. “Gah, I could’ve just sent you this in a message. Now I’m crying like a baby.”

 

“I,” his voice is uncertain. “I’ll wait to hear from you,” he says finally. “So, don’t be afraid to check in when you can. I know that – it’s hard to shoulder things by yourself, especially something like this and,” Shane clears his throat again. “And we’re friends, aren’t we?”

 

“Yeah,” she nods, waterworks still flowing. “Yeah, we are.”

 

“Then I’ll wait. Until you’re somewhere safe. And then,” she can’t see him, but it sounds as though he might be smiling. “And then I’ll send you a picture of the baby blues. I still owe you, don’t I?”

 

She hiccups, promising something about new millet snack recipes. As with most of their conversations, they dissolve into bird-talk, slipping into the rhythm picked up over miles of chat logs. When she hangs up, heading back to her government-issued cot for the night, she manages a sigh of relief. Perhaps things wouldn’t be so bad after all.

 


	2. Cherry Blossom Blues

“Welcome to Rosewood Farm!” Her hostess greets her brightly, pulling off her work gloves and holding out a hand. “I’m Denny.”

 

“Y-yes!” Kala shakes her hand, “Kala! It’s nice to meet you, or,” she swallows. “I guess it’s nice to see you again, although I don’t think I would remember meeting you the first time. We were infants, after all. Um,” she realizes that she has not let go of her hand and jumps back. “What,” she looks around. “What a lovely place you have here. I don’t think I’ve seen so much green in quite some time.”

 

The word that she had a distant connection in the Republic had been a shock. Though her parents had long since passed on, it seemed that they were still watching over her; and fate itself had landed her on the farm of the child of her mother’s dearest friend. She had seen the photos: two babies dressed in dolls’ clothes posed next to each other; a pair of toddlers, one hugging the other around the next just tightly enough to warrant an agitated smack.

 

_Yoba, what am I supposed to say here? “Lovely scarecrow, he looks sturdy. I like the way that there are no crows on this farm.”_ But she likes crows and knows nothing about farming and ends up keeping her mouth shut as she is led up to the second floor of Denny’s home.

 

Denny, she soon learns, isn’t one for small talk; her warm voice saying only what is necessary before leaving her some alone time to set up her room. The farmhouse is spacious and, above all, quiet. So quiet that Kala can hear the soft click of the front door as it closes shut, and she looks out the window in time to see Denny look back over her shoulder and throw her a wave before heading down the path into town.

 

Kala glances around. Though the farmhouse is more than homey, it’s not her home. And the thought that she may never feel as though she truly fits in is enough to cause tears to spring to her eyes. Some gentle chirping, however, snaps her out of it; and she hurries to the desk where she had set down the bird carrier.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she coos, undoing the zipper and watching the two equally-nervous lovebirds inside click their beaks disapprovingly. “I know it’s been a rough ride, but we’re,” she pauses. “We made it, didn’t we?”

 

Slapping her cheeks just hard enough to regain some confidence, she sets about the necessary preparations. Chatting idly at her birds as she does so. “I know you hate that carrier,” she says, setting out two bowls of fresh seeds. “But it’s all we’ve got right now. I’ll ask Denny when she comes back if there’s anywhere to get a new perch or cage or – _ow._ ” She glances down, watching as Peach gnaws on her fingers. “Yes, yes, and millet and greens. I didn’t forget.”

 

Her eyes stray to the sheet of paper Denny had left on the dresser. Though it was slightly embarrassing to admit, she had been overjoyed at the prospect of Wi-fi on the farm. She knew nothing about Pelican Town, and the drive in had proved uninspiring. Not that it wasn’t lovely, and not that her lungs didn’t appreciate the smell of fresh air compared to city smog. But small-town life was alien to her. She had grown up in the city, had been lulled to sleep by the gentle hum of the neon restaurant sign outside of her bedroom window. Her earliest memories were of navigating the capital’s intricate subway system with her mother, going on adventures through the various neighborhoods across the lines.

 

Her vision blurs, her tears from earlier back with a vengeance. Wiping her hand roughly across her eyes, she fumbles to unlock her cell phone and put in the Wi-fi password. Luckily, it works, and she hastily opens the server.

 

_chick_magnet is .:idle:._

_Lovely-Bird (_ _｡･_ _ө_ _･｡): chick!_

_Lovely-Bird (_ _｡･_ _ө_ _･｡): no wait, Shane! Shane! Are you there?_

_Lovely-Bird (_ _｡･_ _ө_ _･｡): well, it says you’re idle. But maybe you’re idling there. Are you? I’m here_ _⋋_ _〳_ _･_ _ਊ_ _･_ _〵_ _⋌_

She chews on her thumb nervously, sinking onto the bed and relishing briefly in the scent of fresh linens. _Maybe it’s been too long. Or maybe he’s just busy. We had our time differences when I was ho—when I was in the Empire. Maybe it’s even worse now._ The thought is enough so send her sulking, and she flops down onto the mattress and throws her arm over her eyes. _That’s it, isn’t it? They’ve put me somewhere where I’ll never talk to chick – Shane – again._ For a moment, she is so engrossed in her pity-party that she doesn’t feel the phone vibrating in her hand. However, when she notices it, she sits up with a jolt.

 

_chick_magnet is requesting a voice chat_

“Yes, yes,” she says fumbling to accept before he can hang up. “Chick, what time is it where you are,” she asks breathlessly.

 

“Uh,” Kala can hear the faint sound of music on the other line. The sound of people playing pool in the background. His voice is muffled, but she can still make out the sound of him asking someone what time it is. “It’s 7:40.”

 

“Oh,” she nods. “Okay, good. That’s,” she sighs in heavy relief. “That’s really just, really good.” _The same time zone. We’re in the same time zone. That’s good, that’s good, isn’t it?_

 

“Bird, are you crying?”

 

“We’ve never been in the same time zone before. I just,” she sniffles and laughs. “It’s just nice to feel close to someone.”

 

The other line is silent, and Kala wonders just how many more awkward phone calls she needs to initiate before he starts ghosting her. But before she can put this fear into nervous rambling, his voice comes in quiet and close, as though he’s speaking directly into her ear. “Just a sec,” he mutters. “I’m gonna head outside where it’s quiet.”

 

“Mmhm!” She hums chirpily, wondering why her face feels so hot out of nowhere. _Is it hot in here? I thought it was kind of cold for spring._  

 

The background noise on the other end is cut by the sound of a door closing, and suddenly the line is quiet save for the sound of footsteps crunching on gravel. “So,” Shane says finally. When she repeats him, he chuckles. The sound causes her heart to flip inside her chest, and she realizes that this is the first time she’s ever heard him do that. “So, are you safe? I didn’t hear from you after you called.” He pauses. “I got worried.”

 

“It’s weird,” she blurts out. “It’s weird, and I don’t know when I’m going to feel not-weird again, but,” she feels her cheeks warm again, suddenly feeling incredibly foolish. “Sorry, yeah, I’m safe. Just a little scrambled.”

 

“It’s gonna take some time to get used to,” he says slowly. “You’ve been through a lot and,” Shane pauses. “And if there’s one thing I’ve learned lately, it’s that you can’t give yourself too much time to adjust to something.” He grunts, almost like he’s embarrassed. “Buh. That’s my two cents, anyway.”

 

“It’s good!” Not for the first time, she wishes that they were having this conversation face-to-face. For even existing in the same time zone meant nothing compared to the thought that she still couldn’t sit beside him, couldn’t truly express just how much those simple gestures of kindness meant. “It’s really good, I’ll,” not for the first time _today_ , she wishes she could stop crying. “I’ll keep it in mind, I promise.”

 

To her horror, he starts laughing again. “Man, Bird, I thought it’d be weird talking on the phone but,” he snorts. “You’re just the same. Except instead of typing loudly, you’re just talking loudly.”

 

“Typing loudly? I don’t even use that many capital letters!”

 

“No,” he snorts. “No, it’s more like – I don’t know, it’s been a while since I took a lit class, so I’m not used to analyzing text. It’s just the way you type with all those little…things. Those animals made of symbols?” When she mumbles, he cackles again. “Yeah, the emoticons. Those and the way you write, I just always imagined them so excited when I read them, you know? And,” his voice is warm. “And it’s the same right now, too.”

 

Her cheeks are burning, and before she can stop herself she mumbles, “I feel like a cockatiel.”

 

And as she listens to him dissolve into a fit of laughs again, she thinks that it might not be so bad.

 

 


	3. Won'tcha Be My Neighbor

“I hear you took in another stray.” Shane lifts a brow. “Don’t you have enough trouble keeping those monsters off that mangy cat of yours?”

 

“He’s not mangy, he’s got charisma. Haven’t you ever played _Solarion Chronicles_?” Denny jostles him into the pool table. “And I’m not babysitting, I’m,” she pauses, “boarding.”

 

“Boarding, huh,” he repeats. “So where is the new tenant? Or are they imaginary, like the rest of your friends.”

 

What had begun as an ordinary Saturday of splitting time between Marnie’s kitchen and his bedroom had turned into a lazy afternoon of pool with everyone’s favorite farmer. A farmer who was now rolling her hooded eyes in his direction. “Oh, that’s funny.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out her wallet. “If my friends are imaginary, then why did your goddaughter make me this?”

 

“You’ve been carrying this around?” He reaches for the small card, chuckling at Jas’s drawings of crawfish-eating cows and blue chickens. “To our beloved farmer,” he reads aloud. “Well aren’t you special.” Shane hands her back her trinket. “Why don’t you spread some of that social wealth to your tenant? I’m sure those shadow bastards you’ve got roaming your farm don’t make good company.”

 

“One, don’t call her my tenant. She’s,” Denny taps her lower lip, apparently deep in thought. “How can I explain this to you in a way that you might understand it,” she mumbles to herself before snapping her fingers. “That’s it! She’s like my cousin.”

 

“Well damn, Denny, I know I must’ve pissed away more than a few good brain cells, but I _do_ know what a cousin is.”

 

“No, we’re not related,” she says, waving her hand at him. “But our moms were friends, so,” she shrugs. “Cousins.”

 

“Is that a Gotoro thing,” he teases. “If it is, I’d think twice before lying. I have an expert I can use to fact-check you.”

 

“Denny’s only _half_ ,” Sam stands at the opposite end of the pool table. His eyebrows furrow, and he gives Shane a glare that might’ve killed him, had it not been plastered over this particular boy’s soft face. “And watch how you talk about that,” he says hotly. “My dad’s back, you know.”

 

For a moment Shane considers arguing. Maybe it was knowing that Bird had gone through her nightmare migration because of where she came from. Maybe it was the lure of his old demons whispering self-destructive temptations in his ear. Maybe it was boredom, Sam’s presence making it clear that his fun-filled afternoon had promptly come to an end. He glances at Denny. She had never tried to hide her heritage. After all, it was a tiny town. You only had to take one look at Marnie and Lewis to know that secrets didn’t exist here. But to smother something that should’ve never been a secret to begin with?

 

Shane shakes his head. _This isn’t my fight_ , he thinks, reminding himself that there were – and would continue to be – things that were out of his control. “Enjoy your lunch, you two,” he says cheerily, picking up his jacket from the sofa and clapping Sam on the shoulder as he leaves the saloon.

 

He takes his time walking back to the ranch. Denny had been his Saturday plan, and now his schedule had been blown wide open. _Might’ve been nice to have a backup._ He glances at his phone, lying to himself and pretending that he’s only checking the time.

 

_“We’ve never been in the same time zone before. I just – it’s just nice to feel close to someone.”_

_Same time zone, huh._ He turns the display of his phone on and off, watching the numbers flicker on the screen as they try to keep up. _Zuzu, maybe? That’s not a long bus ride. I could even get there tonight if –_

The thought catches him off guard, and he stops dead in his tracks.

 

_What am I saying? Does Bird even want to –_ He shakes his head, taking a breath and rewording the thought. _I don’t even know how far apart we are, let alone where she is. And we’ve never talked about meeting up. I shouldn’t get too ahead of myself._

But despite this attempt to sober up, he can feel the grin on his face; and it lasts all the way down the cobblestone path and to the dirt road leading to the Cindersap Forest. From down the path, he is briefly able to make out the shape of someone scurrying out of the shop, their head ducked low as they practically sprint up the trail leading to Rosewood.

 

_Must be the cousin_ , he thinks. Shrugging off the strange sight, he continues down the road and into the house.

 

His suspicions are confirmed when Marnie greets him with a kiss on the cheek, and a “you just missed Denny’s little friend.”

 

“She’s her cousin,” he replies, heading to the fridge in search of frozen pizza.

 

“Poor dear,” Marnie clicks her tongue sympathetically. “She came in shaking like a leaf. Could barely get through asking for what she needed.”

 

When he asks what that was, she hands him a slip of paper. “Perch, birdseed, cage,” he frowns. “This isn’t for chicks.”

 

“No, no,” she shakes her head. “She had one like Emily took in – with the injured wing? – a small parrot. Or,” she frowns, “or maybe two. Like I said, she was speaking so fast and so quiet. Poor thing,” she repeats for emphasis, patting Shane absently on the cheek. “But you’ve gotten so good at dealing with the chickens, I thought you could branch out. Ask that pen pal or e-board for help.” She gives him a coy look, “Or whatever you do when you’re up giggling all hours of the night.”

 

“I don’t giggle.”

 

But Marnie isn’t listening. “Let’s try to make her feel welcome, okay, Shane?” She returns to the register, rifling through her drawer of receipts. “Now, what was the poor dear’s name?”

 

 

“Bird, I’m telling you. It just says, ‘little bird.’ I just need supplies for little birds.” He cradles the phone between his ear and shoulder, eyes glazing over as his fingers fly across the keyboard. “I _am_ searching your blog, but all I’m seeing are pictures of Peach and Tango wearing hats.”

 

“They’re cute, aren’t they? I made them out of paper.” He listens as she squeals affectionately at the screaming birds in the background. “That’s right, you’re friends with mommy again because I got you strawberries. My sweet berry boys.” Bird sighs dreamily. “Did you see the latest pictures? They have berry juice staining their beaks. It looks like they’ve been out drinking the blood of the innocent.”

 

“Mm, cute,” he mutters, cursing when yet another sweep of “Bird’s Tasty Bird Tips” yields nothing about little birds. “This is pointless. I’m just getting adorable photos of lovebirds when I should be getting Bird’s Bird Tips.” Shane leans forward, pressing his hand to his eyes. “C’mon, give me something to work with so I’m not a complete failure.”

 

“Hm,” Bird hums thoughtfully. In these nightly calls, he’s learned to pick out the background sounds of her daily life. He listens as she taps her pen against the wooden desktop, something she is prone to do while thinking. Finally (cued by the sound of her fingers snapping), she speaks. “Have you tried making the birds bigger?”

 

“Goodnight, Bird.”

 

“What? It’s a good idea! Why are you afraid of my big bird ideas?”

 

“ _Goodnight, Bird._ ”

 

He can practically hear her rolling her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, goodnight, Chick.” There is a pause, and he would’ve thought she hung up had it not been for the sound of her tapping her teeth together. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, right?”

 

Shane leans back, the same stupid grin from earlier resurfacing with reinforcements. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah you will.”  


	4. All the Rage Back Home

She gets used to life in Pelican Town much faster than she had anticipated. Though she had yet to make any real friends, or even to really get out of her attic-level abode, she no longer spent her nights lying awake listening for the sound of gunfire. And, though she still found the silence of the farm to be unnerving and unnatural, the feeling was only slight, and she considers it a victory nonetheless.

 

Kala creeps down the stairs, the creak of the floorboards under her feet creating a pause in the laughter coming from the kitchen. When she rounds the corner, she sees Denny at the table with two purple-clad friends. Denny smiles warmly, “Hey! I was wondering if you were up. We didn’t wake you, did we?”

 

“No, no,” she shakes her head. “I was just tidying up. Feeding the birds and getting some things ready for the day. Also it’s 4pm,” Kala fidgets, toying with her fingers, unable to ignore the curious stares coming from Denny’s guests. “I’m Kala, by the way. I’ve been Denny’s weird roommate for the last few weeks.”

 

“Oh right,” Denny scratches the back of her head. “This is Abigail and Sebastian. I don’t think you guys have met yet.” When they exchange semi-awkward hellos, Denny gestures to the spread of cardboard and game-pieces on the table in front of them. “If you don’t have any plans, we’re just about to start another round before heading to the saloon.”

 

She cranes her neck, not needing a second glance to identify the setup for the _Solarion Chronicles._ “Oh wow,” she sidles closer to the table. “There’s a familiar sight.” When Denny asks if she plays, her eyebrows shooting up in mild surprise, Kala flushes. “A little, nothing major. Or, well no, I started a club when I was in high school. And had a pretty extensive campaign in college.” She tugs on her earlobe, “And used to play with my landlord and some friends back home.”

 

“Well then take a seat!” Denny motions to the chair across the table and begins the setup for a new round. “So what d’you play?”

 

“Healer.”

 

“You have a beautiful accent,” Abigail looks at her, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

 

“Do I,” she asks before she can stop herself. “Oh!” Realizing that this might come off as rude, and not wanting to end the potential for friendship before it starts, she hurries on. “I guess I don’t really hear it, you know? I mean, I’ve had it all my life and you don’t really notice when you’re in the Empire.”

 

“Ha,” Sebastian laughs dryly. “I’d keep that quiet around Sam if I were you.” When she asks who Sam is, he snorts. “Our resident patriot,” he replies. He glances at her. “He’s harmless, if not a little misguided.” He gives a shrug, brushing his indigo bangs away from his face half-heartedly. “Army brats, what’re you gonna do?”

 

Kala doesn’t know what to say, and so she doesn’t; choosing instead to fall into the easy rhythm of the campaign. Though they’re somewhat brusque, exchanging banter largely through snark and barbed quips, Kala finds Sebastian and Abigail to be nothing short of delightful. And she finds herself slightly disappointed when Denny glances at her watch and announces that their game night has come to an end.

 

“We should probably head out,” she says. “If we want to get there early enough to keep it a surprise.”

 

“Sam said he managed to stall, but yeah,” Sebastian tucks his phone into his pocket as he stands. “You’re probably right.”

 

They continue to speak in a language coded by friendship. She feels a pang in her heart, the idea of slinking back upstairs for another night of sitting around waiting for Chick to log in suddenly incredibly disheartening. She rises slowly from the table, heading to the stairs as the others get their jackets on. As she is about to retreat, Denny calls out for her.

 

“Hey, if you’re not busy, why don’t you come with?” She smiles, “We’re having a little dinner and drinks for a friend’s birthday.” When she sputters, concerned about everything from a lack of semi-formal clothes to a fear of intruding, Denny waves a hand. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Look at Seb, he hasn’t taken off that ratty hoodie since I moved here. Besides,” she shrugs, the easy grin on her face sending shockwaves through Kala’s chest. “You’ve been here long enough, everyone’s dying to meet you.”

 

Her stomach flutters, the desire to bow her head and gently request a rain-check tickling the back of her throat. Instead she smiles shakily. “Just give me a second to change.”

 

And so she does, slipping into something she hopes isn’t too dorky and hopping down the stairs. Denny ushers them out the door and along the torch-lined fence, her head cocked and listening for the farm’s nighttime inhabitants. “They won’t give us a problem now,” she explains, chin jerking in the direction of the setting sun. “But make sure you stick by me when it’s time to come home.”

_Home_ , Kala feels her chest constrict again. _She called it home._

 

The walk to the saloon is one of comforting observations. Abigail and Denny make soft, light conversation, Denny’s hand toying with Sebastian’s as he pretends not to listen. Every so often, they glance back, bringing Kala into the conversation with a “what do you usually do about that?” or “have you ever heard something about it?” She appreciates the gesture, her fumbled answers slowly easing out of her mouth as she grows more eager to participate.

 

The center of town is quiet, their steps echoing as they walk down the cobblestone path. The saloon is a single point of light, emitting a warmth that betrays the darkened windows of the buildings around it. Denny is the first up the stone steps, and she holds the door open for her friends before turning to Kala with a reassuring smile.

 

“Ready,” she asks, her dark eyes bright.

 

And for once, Kala thinks she is.


	5. Better Than a Stripper Cake

“So,” Shane taps his fingers awkwardly on the table. “Denny said she was on her way?”

 

Sam grunts, his stare planted firmly on the Joja cola sitting in front of him. To say things had been frosty between the two men since their lunchtime showdown would be an understatement. With the younger man sitting sullenly staring into his soda, Shane finds no reason to be polite, so he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone. He hadn’t heard from Bird all afternoon; an odd and troubling occurrence on any day, but especially on his birthday. But his phone shows no missed messages, no calls or texts or last minute “come-see-me-s;” and he feels his heart sink in his chest.

 

“Shane.”

 

He glances up, nodding slightly. “Well if it isn’t the gruesome twosome,” he gestures to the booth and watches as Abigail and Sebastian slip into it. “Are you wearing matching sweaters?”

“Don’t push it, birthday boy,” Sebastian says dryly. He sets something on the table, “Happy birthday.”

 

“What’s this,” Shane picks it up. “A rock wrapped in newspaper?” He opens it to find that that’s exactly what it is, and he snorts. “I’m so lucky you had time to wrap it.”

 

“Thought that counts, right?” He waves a thin hand flippantly. “I’m sure Denny got you something better, so you don’t even need my gift.” He glances at Abigail. “Where is Denny? Didn’t she come in first?”

 

“Shane’s aunt snatched the new girl away once they got in the door,” she replies with a glance in his direction. “And you know how long that’s gonna take.”

 

“Oh,” Shane glances over their heads, but he can’t make out anything past Marnie’s back. “The cousin, right? What’s her name? Marnie just calls her ‘poor thing.’”

 

Sebastian’s face creases, as though Shane has just asked him to spend a day in the sunlight. “What was it,” he mumbles. “Carla?”

 

“No, no, the,” he doesn’t miss the glance that Abigail shoots at Sam before she continues. “The accent, remember? Gahrlar.”

 

“Corlor.”

 

“These aren’t human names.” He glances up to see Denny gently prying herself from Marnie’s grasp. “Forget it,” he nods. “I’ll just ask she gets over here.” Shane stands as Denny approaches the table, opening his arms and accepting his once-a-year birthday hug. As he returns her well wishes with a grunt of thanks, his eyes stray to the quivering figure lurking behind her.

 

He’s not sure what to take in first. The short shock of mint hair, the tuxedo t-shirt, the way her whole body seems to vibrate out of sheer terror alone. These are all distracting, but he finds that what he focuses on are her eyes. Wide and dark, fixed on him with the frightened stare of a calf separated too soon from its mother. He lets Denny go, taking a slow step forward. Shane doesn’t miss the way she recoils, nor does he miss the way she forces herself to reposition herself.

 

 _That explains the shadow I saw running to the farm_ , he thinks. _I thought Marnie was exaggerating, but she really is skittish._

“Uh,” he frowns, wondering what he should say in this kind of situation. Since his rehabilitation, he had tried his hardest to be patient with people. To take the time to get to know them, just like Denny had done with him. But the people this applied to had always been, like his former self, angry and mistrustful. This was something different. How was he supposed to bypass fear? “Denny’s told me all about you.” He smiles. It’s not something he’s used to doing with strangers quite yet, but he hopes it comes off as reassuring. “You’re her cousin, right?”

 

“You just love to bring up the cousin thing,” Denny says, resting her elbow on his shoulder. “I was just trying to explain it without explaining it, you know? But this guy got so hung up on it.”

 

Denny’s kind words seem to relax her, her posture softening only slightly as she forces another step forward. Her eyes are planted on the base of his neck, and the small brown hand she extends towards him is quaking. “Ka,” she squeaks before clearing her throat. “My name is Kala.”

 

It’s much quieter than he’s ever heard it, drowned in anxiety and whispers, but Shane would recognize that voice anywhere and through any distortion. His mouth rounds out the word, but the sound refuses to leave his mouth as his hand shoots out to wrap tightly around her wrist. She yelps, trying to pull back. He wants to explain, to speak and hope that she might recognize him; but his thoughts are a scrambled mess inside his head, and though he tells himself that this is potentially the most frightening stunt he could’ve pulled, he only tightens his grip.

 

“Whoa there, big boy,” Denny’s nails sink into his shoulder. “Let’s calm down and introduce ourselves first, alright?”

 

Though her voice is level, there is a sharpness in her tone. It cuts through the fog in his head just long enough for him to blurt out a single word. “Bird.”

 

“Bird? Does she look like a bird? Is this how you handle the chicks?” She jostles him roughly, one hand reaching over to pry Bird’s tiny wrist from his grasp. “Let go, you’re gonna break it!”

 

“No,” he shakes his head, trying to remove himself from her hold. “Let go of me. I’m fine, I,” Shane turns. Bird stands with her arm clutched to her chest, the frightened look on her face more painful than anything he’s felt in quite some time. “Uh,” he runs his fingers through his hair, glancing around and realizing that he’s making quite the scene. Shane’s face grows hot under the stares of the townsfolk, and he lowers his voice. “Can we go outside and talk?”

 

“The _fuck_ you can!” Denny plants herself angrily in front of him, her eyes blazing. “After you just snapped her arm? The only talking outside you’ll be doing is with me and my fists!”

 

“Denny.” Bird creeps up behind her. “Denny, it’s okay. I don’t –”

 

“No, no, Kala,” she charges forward and grabs him by the collar. “Listen, Shane, I know it’s your birthday. And I know we’re friends, and that you’ve been through a lot this past year. But you don’t know half of what’s been going on with her, and this –”

 

“Um,” Bird places her hand on Denny’s shoulder. “Denny, it’s –”

 

“I really didn’t peg you for someone who went around just, just,” but Denny is trapped in her own impassioned speech. “Just disrespecting women like this! I mean, you live with two women. What if some creep started harassing Jas? Why does it take a real-life example to make you understand how scary something like this can –”

 

 _“I know him from the internet!”_  

 

Bird’s half-shriek-half-sputtered exclamation stops Denny in her tracks, and slowly she turns her head to look over her shoulder. “Huh?”

 

Shane looks around. If he had believed in Yoba, he might’ve thanked Him for keeping the saloon relatively empty for a Saturday night. _Empty in that only_ half _of the town is here_ , he thinks. The atmosphere is tense. Lewis has set his beer down on the table, exchanging wary glances with Gus; as though they are silently debating when would be the right time to step in. Knowing that this is going to be the talk of the town (and that those not in attendance will almost certainly get a rundown at the Flower Dance) is enough to physically pain him. _So much for rebuilding that reputation, huh?_  

 

Bird stands on her toes, whispering something shakily into Denny’s ear. When she finishes, she keeps her eyes plastered to the ground, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Slowly, Denny’s fingers uncurl from around his shirt, and she releases up with an unceremonious hum. She gives him one last unreadable look before turning and taking Bird’s hand, leading her out the door.

 

“Chick, I’ll,” her eyes meet his only for a moment. “I’ll call you!”

 

The door slams behind them, and he stands there dumbfounded as the atmosphere picks up and the patrons have the decency to at least pretend like they aren’t talking about him. He hears Sebastian snort from the booth behind him. “Man, what a way to spend a birthday.”

 

And, defeated, he sinks back into his seat and waits for the phone to ring.  


	6. Rocky's Late Night

He waits up for her until he thinks his eyes must be bleeding, clutching the phone to his chest just as he had clutched that tiny wrist in his hand. _Kala, Kala, Kala. “I know him from the internet!”_ Shane’s heart pounds inside his chest, pounds inside of his ears, his blood rushing inside of his veins. She had looked so small, so frightened, so unexpectedly expectedly _sweet._

 

His phone vibrates. _Can I call you?_

 

He’s exhausted, his head pounding. He wants to sleep, wants to set up a meeting. She’s in Pelican Town, obviously not going anywhere. What’s the rush? He could sneak out to the Farm now, monsters be damned. His thoughts run wild in his head, wild like the blood pounding in his veins. Wild like the heart in his chest. He might love her. Every thought wastes time between her messages and a response. Shane dials her number, fingers tapping loudly against the screen, the sound bouncing off the walls of his skull.

 

“So,” her voice the sweetest hesitation in his ears. “That was some first meeting.” She pauses, the sound of a mattress creaking. “I knew you were nearby, I didn’t think you’d be so close. Maybe I should’ve asked you. Denny,” she sighs. “Denny asked me all sorts of questions about us. How we met, or how I know you, really. I told her about the bird forum, I guess you told her a little about that? She said you might’ve mentioned me.” She pauses. “I’m sorry if I freaked you out,” she says quietly. “I just got so scared, you know, some stranger – not that you’re a stranger, but I thought you were. I didn’t know, we’ve never exchanged pictures or anything. Not of each other, at least.” A chuckle, she’s nervous. “That might’ve cleared this whole thing up, maybe, I don’t know.”

 

“Kala, I want to meet you.” He hasn’t heard a word she’s said to him. Wouldn’t care if he had. “If you’re in Pelican Town, I’d like to see you if you’re okay with it.” He flops down on his bed. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you the way that I did, and I apologize for that. I don’t usually go around doing that to people. I’m not really big on people to begin with, if you can believe it.”

 

“I can.” She giggles, and he sees stars. “I’ve talked to you long enough to pick up that much.”

 

“But you’re different, you’re Bird, you know?” He licks his lips. “Seeing you tonight was just, it was something that I didn’t think would ever happen but always kind of wished for, you know?” He folds his arm under his head, trying to stop the unending pounding in his chest. “Is that too forward? I’m trying to learn how to be more open with people.”

 

Kala is quiet on the other line, and for a moment Shane fears that she hung up. Finally, she speaks. “Shane, you’re my only friend in Pelican Town. When I realized it was you, I was so happy. I was still nervous, but I was so happy.” She pauses again. “I do want to meet, is there a time that works best for you? I don’t do anything, just help Denny where I can on the farm.”

 

“What’s tomorrow, Sunday?” He knows it’s Sunday, knows he has nothing to do, nowhere to go. The blood refuses to cease. “I can do tomorrow, you can stop by the ranch. We could take a walk in the woods. Maybe a picnic.”

 

“That sounds like fun.” Another pause, another creak of the mattress. The farm only a short distance away. What might it be like to lie in that mattress beside her, to feel that small body beside his own? “Tomorrow afternoon? I can come by after I help Denny with the animals.”

 

His heart slams, the sound so loud he’s sure she can hear it on the other end of the phone. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds fine.” More than fine, it sounded like heaven. Like some kind of reward for some good that he didn’t think he had done in his life. “I’ll see you then, Bird.”

 

“See you then, Chick.”

 

And reluctantly, he hangs up the phone.


	7. By the Numbers

She counts to help calm her nerves.

 

_Two, the number of eggs dropped before Denny ushers her out of the coop. Twice, the number of times she changes her clothes before settling on a collarless button-down and her usual jeans and combat boots. Sixteen, the number of times she reads over Shane’s wake-up text, wondering if he would prefer her in a skirt before reminding herself that this is just a friendly outing. That she shouldn’t treat it like a date._

Kala is breathless by the time she reaches Marnie’s ranch that Sunday afternoon, and she stands outside the door trying to compose herself. It had all seemed so simple last night, so easy. They had made their plans by the silvery light of the moon, had whispered across the cell towers so sweetly. _Forty-three, the number of times she had wondered what it would be like to lie in Shane’s embrace._ Her face flares up, and Kala grips the wooden fence for support as her knees threaten to give way. _It’s showtime,_ she thinks idly. _You’re less than 100-feet from the man. You can’t afford to be thinking these things._

 

Taking a breath, she opens the door. _Three, the number of times the bell above the door chimes. One pair, a set of violet eyes peeking shyly at her from around the counter. Five, the number of times Marnie calls her “poor dear” in the span of a breath._

 

“Hey, Bird.” Shane is in the kitchen, standing at the microwave. _One, a single wicker basket lying open on the table, packed with goodies._ “I’ll be done here in,” he glances at the timer. “Thirty seconds, and then we can go.”

 

“Hey,” she tries not to notice the fit of his jeans, the particular stretch of his t-shirt over his thick torso. “That sounds good, take your time.” _Lifetimes, the number of years he acts like he’s known her. As though it’s all too normal for her to be standing awkwardly in his kitchen, her fingers a tangled mess in front of her._

 

Thirty seconds and a few minutes later, they set out down the path into the Cindersap Forest. “There’s a dock I like,” he explains. “It’s a nice place to catch the sun and waste a day. I was thinking I’d take you down there and we could spend the day.”

 

She doesn’t know how to explain how surreal it is to be walking with him, that she would follow him anywhere simply because he was there and not on her phone. That if it meant watching the sun bounce off the violet fringe of his hair, she would follow him to the depths of Hell itself, follow him all the way back into the Empire in the midst of battle. _One-hundred sixty-one, the number of romantic,_ a glimpse at his large, calloused hands _, slightly dirty thoughts about my internet pen pal._ “That sounds lovely,” she replies. “I’ve never explored this part of the town. Or any part of the town, really. I haven’t really left the farm.” She stumbles, and he places his hand on the small of her back to steady her. _One-hundred sixty-two._ “I’d like to go to the beach,” she says loudly.

 

Shane blinks, his eyes a perfect mimic of the mossy trees around them in the sunlight. “Yeah,” he says slowly, a smile tilting the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, we could do that.” He rubs his chin, the sound of skin against stubble, _one-hundred sixty-three._ “Might want to wait until it’s a little warmer though,” he frowns. “Or we could bring a few more blankets.”

 

They arrive at the dock, where he spreads a flannel blanket and motions for her to sit. “It’s not much,” he begins a little bashfully as he opens the basket. She glances inside to find that it is, in fact, much. “I just threw together some sandwiches and pepper poppers, Marnie and Jas made some cookies, and a bottle of Denny’s sparkling cider from her fall apple crop.” He rubs his neck, looking out into the water. “Like I said, I didn’t have a whole lot of time to put together something fancy.”

 

“This is lovely,” Kala feels like she’s going to cry. “You made me lunch, and I get to eat it with you.” She gestures wildly, “And look at us, we’re in the woods at your favorite spot. Together. This is,” she sighs. “For the first time today, I think I’m speechless.”

 

“I didn’t even think that was possible.” He teases. “Well, let’s eat before everything gets cold.” He frowns, and she decides she likes the seemingly-permanent way his brow seems to furrow. “Or warm, whatever.” Over the sound of soft chewing and water lapping at the deck, he glances at her. “So,” Shane begins slowly.

 

“So,” she repeats.

 

“Do you think you’ll stay in Pelican Town?” He tugs at his earlobe. “Zuzu City’s just a shot away, you could get on a bus and go back to city life in a heartbeat.” He frowns at the sandwich in his lap. “Or is that too heavy a conversation starter. Should I ask you what your favorite movie is or something?”

 

She laughs, thinks about it for a beat, though she knows she doesn’t have to. “I don’t know,” Kala says finally. “I kind of like it here. It’s quiet, different. The people are friendly, but in a weird way. Denny calls it small town polite.” She takes a thoughtful bite of a pepper popper. “I told Denny that I’d like to stay and help her on the farm, and she said she’d have Robin build me a cabin. My own cabin, Shane, on the property.” She rubs her lip, “I don’t know. To me, that seems a little nicer than renting out some rat-infested studio in the city. Besides,” she blushes, “you’re here, aren’t you?” It almost sounds like an admission, like overstepping a boundary that she didn’t know was there. It sounds like the one-hundred and sixty-fourth thought to cross her mind since walking down to the dock, the one that ended in happily ever afters that did not and could not possibly exist. “It’s so much moving around,” she says quickly. “I think I’d like to stay put is what I’m getting at.”

 

Shane is quiet. If his stare hadn’t been so steadily planted on her, she might’ve thought he wasn’t listening. But finally, he speaks, and the sound of it is so quiet, so profound that she almost has to lean in to catch it. “I’m happy you’re here.”

 

“Yeah, me too.”


	8. Two Left Feet

They lie side by side on the dock, basking in the late afternoon sun, their hands brushing. Bird talks about the Gotoro Empire, talks about her old apartment and the sound of gunfire in the street. She tells him about the ration system and curfews, and how hard it was to get a decent cup of coffee, and Shane makes plans to take her to the saloon once he finds out if Gus can make a latte or not. “I’m probably talking too much,” she says finally, turning her calf’s eyes to him bashfully, her brown cheeks pinkening.

 

The truth is, he is grateful that she’s talking; grateful because he knows that if she hadn’t been talking, he would probably be kissing her and running their relationship into the ground. “I like it when you ramble,” he says simply. “It helps me practice my listening.” She threatens to shove him into the lake, and he falls in love with her just a little bit more. “Bird,” he says suddenly. “Are you going to the flower dance next week?”

 

She rolls onto her side, and his insides clench not unpleasantly as he imagines what that might look like in the early morning light of his bedroom. “What’s the flower dance?” She asks, her head cocking to the side, teal fringe falling into her eyes. It’s strange how easy it feels; how easy it would _be_ to brush his hand against her cheek. To tuck that unruly bit of hair behind her ear before leaning in to claim her mouth. “Shane,” she prods his chest, bringing him back into the moment. “What’s the flower dance?”

 

“Festival,” he chokes out finally. Clearing his throat, he tries to focus on the conversation, and not how easy it would be to latch his arm around her waist and pull her on top of him. “We do it every spring, out in the forest. It’s supposed to be some fertility thing.” His face reddens. “Not that you need to know the whole history, not that _I_ know the whole history. But it’s fine, I guess. There’s always food at these things. This one has dancing, if you’re into that.”

 

“I love dancing,” she says, and never has he ever been so grateful for a person’s touchy-feeliness as her hands come down to splay across his chest. “I’m not very _good_ at dancing, but I do like dancing. What kind of dancing is it? Will you dance with me?”

 

He will do whatever she asks of him, by this point. Might even eat a fistful of hay, if that’s what she wants.

 

Bird mistakes his strangled silence for hesitation, and she shimmies closer. “Please,” she rests her chin on his chest, her eyes wide. “I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll owe you one, big time.”

 

He will definitely eat two fistfuls of hay, if that’s what she wants. “Yeah,” he nods. “Yeah, I’ll dance with you if you want me to. Might step on your feet a little though.” She giggles, doesn’t move from his chest, doesn’t put a safe distance between them. _This is bad_ , he thinks, the familiar strain against his zipper telling him that he’s going to need to calm down or get out before things get worse and he loses her forever.

 

“I’ll have you know,” she says, her voice vibrating around his head. “When I used to go out back home, there was not a foot unstepped. So just be warned.” Bird yawns, her ear against his heart. “What else do you have going on today? Do you need to wrap this up?” She smiles at him, and he wonders what she would look like kiss-swollen and disheveled lying in his bed. “I could stay like this forever, you know, so don’t wait on me to make the move to leave.”

 

“You’re my Sunday plan.” His hand shakes as he braves a touch, reaching forward to brush the hair out of her face. Like he’s done it a hundred times. _Yoba, no one has any business being this soft._ “I’ve got nowhere to be.” He let’s his hand linger. _Just friends being friendly, friendly touching._

 

Bird doesn’t seem to mind, and she sighs contentedly. “Let me know if I’m too heavy,” she mumbles, nuzzling into his hand. “It’s been so long since I’ve gotten to cuddle with anyone, I’ve forgotten how to act.”

 

He would sooner let her crush him than complain, but he hums anyway. Something like jealousy tugs at his heart, wondering who she was cuddling up to in the Empire, but he tells himself that was then, this is now. That they’re just two friends, two touch-starved friends having a snuggle. Denny snuggled with her friends all the time, didn’t she? He squints. _But she’s dating that entire trio, isn’t she?_ He wonders if it’s so crazy, then. To think about dating Bird. He hadn’t been so intimate with anyone since, well, since ever, he thinks. What was it to add a romantic label to things?

 

“Bird,” he might ask her now, might risk it all right there on their picnic. Her response is a snort, her arms looped slack around his neck. _Asleep_ , he thinks, affection pooling in his chest. _She’s fast asleep._ He knows it’s going to get cold soon, that their perfect day is going to have to end at some point. The sun hangs like a ripened peach in the sky, Bird warm in his arms. He decides to let her rest for just a few minutes longer.


	9. Protective

She thinks that if they had met in the city, and if she would have been living on her own, she would have invited him up for coffee that wasn’t really coffee. Shane holds her hand as he walks her back to the farm, and she tries her hardest not to combust in his grasp. She had woken up in his arms, cradled against his strong chest like a lover, his eyes lidded and looking at her as though she was the most important thing in the world. To say that she had almost leapt into the lake had been an understatement, the intimacy of it all almost causing her to perish on the scene.

 

“When does construction on your cabin start?” He asks, as though he can read her mind. As though he knows that the one thing standing between her and a thinly-veiled proposition is the presence of her hostess. “Denny’s nice and all, but I’m sure you miss having your own place.”

 

“Monday, I think.” She wonders if she should invite him over for dinner when the building is finished, wonders if there’s somewhere to buy furniture around here. “That’s when Robin said she could start, anyway. She’s a one-woman crew, right? That’s pretty wild.”

 

“She gets the job done quick,” he assures her. “Don’t worry about it.” His eyes flick up, catching something down the path as his footsteps slow. For a second, Kala thinks it might be a monster from the forest, the way his eyes harden, and he grips her hand, pulling her closer into his side. “Come on,” he mutters, “just keep walking.”

 

But as they continue down the path, she allows her eyes to slide over; and she sees it’s nothing but a haggard, middle-aged man with a military-grade haircut and a scowl; trudging down the way past them. She waits until he’s out of earshot before glancing up at Shane, whose brow has not un-furrowed. “Who’s that?”

 

“Listen to me,” he looks down at her. “Stay away from that guy, you hear me? He’s no good.” When she blinks at him in surprise, he sighs, stopping and turning to face her. “Sorry, that sounds scary. It’s nothing major, it’s just,” he frowns deeply, and she has the strongest urge to reach up and smooth the crease in his forehead. “Have you met Sam yet? Kinda tall, hair like Goku?”

 

_Sam, Denny’s friend Sebastian mentioned Sam._ Kala tries to remember what he had said, the words echoing hollowly in her head. “Resident patriot,” she repeats slowly.

 

“That’s one way to put it.” Shane jerks his thumb down the path. “Well, that’s the man who raised him. He’s been off fighting in the Empire for who knows how long, and I don’t know what kind of attitudes he’s brought back. I just,” he looks at her, drawing his thumb across her knuckles. “I don’t want him to say anything to you.”

 

_Oh, so he’s worried about_ racism. She thinks it’s cute, really. “Shane,” she smiles. “I survived a war and a refugee camp, I’m pretty sure I can handle some old racist hurling a slur at me.” When he doesn’t laugh, she lowers her voice. “What, do you think he’ll get violent?”

 

“I,” his cheeks redden, and for the first time she is the one to make _him_ tongue-tied and flustered. “Look, Bird, you’ve been through a lot. And I know talk is just talk, but I still don’t think you should have to hear it from someone who doesn’t know you.” He holds her hand tighter. “Just promise me you’ll keep an eye out. Please, just so I’ll be able to catch some sleep tonight.”

 

Kala looks down at her feet, looks at their hands, wonders why she has to go back to Denny’s. “Yeah,” she nods. “Okay, I’ll look out for him. Should I know what his name is?”

 

“Kent,” Shane sighs, leading her down the path once more. “We really have to start getting you out so you can put names to faces.” His ears redden, “Not that I’m trying to gossip with you, I don’t do that whole thing. But it wouldn’t hurt for you to know people in town. They all seem to know you, anyway.” He gives her a smile, the frown on his face finally subsiding. “What are you doing tomorrow night? I could take you out for dinner.”

 

“Two days in a row?” She swings their arms, her stomach dropping as the farmhouse looms like a prison in the distance. “Careful, I wouldn’t want you to get tired of me.”

 

They stand at the foot of the porch, and he stares at her so earnestly she has to look away for fear of being swallowed whole by his gaze. “Never,” he says. “Meet me at the saloon, six o’clock.”

 

She doesn’t want him to leave, doesn’t want to go inside as she thinks hard of something to say other than “See you later, Shane.” But nothing comes to mind, and soon he’s letting go of her hand and setting back down the path in the direction of the ranch. Kala has never once been ungrateful for Denny and her help, but for the first time she feels truly unappreciative for her borrowed bed.

 

“How was your date?” The farmer in question asks as she shuffles inside, one eyebrow lifting at the sight of her border’s sullen appearance. “I see Shane is wearing off on you.”

 

“It wasn’t a date,” she all but snaps. At Denny’s surprised look, she softens her tone. “We’re just friends, it was friendly. It was,” the weight of his hand still all-too present in her own. “It was two friends having a very nice time together, I’m sure you’ve had similar outings. Oh,” she frowns. “Who was that man that was here? Kent?” She cocks her head. “What did he want?”

 

“What does any Ferngill soldier want,” Denny returns the question dryly. “To make sure the Gotoro in town know their place.” Rubbing her head, she sighs. “No, he came by to introduce himself. To say that Sam had told him about me, minus my _heritage_. That he knew there was a ‘refugee’ living here. It was tense, but I think he’s harmless.”

 

“Hm,” she nods. “What does your friend Sam have to say about all of this.”

 

“He worships his father, it’s,” Denny fidgets uncomfortably. “It’s complicated.”

 

A heavy silence hangs between them, and Kala shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “Well,” she says awkwardly. “I’m going to head up. Long day, you know.” She tries not to be too judgmental, as she walks up the stairs and into her room. Denny was likely just protecting Sam from whatever opinions she assumed Kala had already formed. _It’s not like I haven’t got my own person looking out for me, I get it._ She flops down onto the mattress, rolling onto her side. Kala doesn’t sleep, thinking long and hard about protectiveness as the sounds of the farm lull her into a dull sense of security.  

 

 


End file.
